


Hamish's Birthday

by steve_it_only_hurt_a_little_rogers



Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4021705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steve_it_only_hurt_a_little_rogers/pseuds/steve_it_only_hurt_a_little_rogers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes, giving his godson a normal present? Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hamish's Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago and want to put it up just in case I lose my hard drive again

\-----------------------------------------------------

“Alright, last present from… Uncle Sherlock! Here you go.”

John put the gift (actually wrapped this year at Mrs. Hudson’s insistence no doubt) in Hamish’s eager hands and exchanged a look with Mary. Any present from Sherlock was questionable, and with good reason too. After all, last year the man had given Hamish a skull and book of famous murders, in which Sherlock had written in vivid detail how he would have solved each one in half the time it took the investigators (“The boy has to know that the world is an awful place eventually, John; might as well make it fun! And it’s not a  _real_ skull!) and the year before that he bought Hamish a chemistry set with real chemicals (“Well, Mary, it’s how  _I_  learned…”).

John looked down at Hamish, tearing apart the bright orange paper to get at the box underneath. Hamish peered into the box and upon seeing what was inside, tore the top off. John and Mary gasped; the man had gotten the boy something  _normal_  this year!

“Wow, Uncle Shwock! İGwacias! Mewci!  _Thanks_!”

———————————Flashback—————————————————————

It was quickly approaching the boy’s birthday and Sherlock was still at a loss on what to get him. It was always at the back of his mind. The last few years hadn’t gone too smoothly with John and Mary; apparently, giving a one year old a severed finger to suck on was “Inappropriate!”, presenting a three year old with a skull and book of murders (that he, generously, solved for the boy) was “Mentally traumatizing!” and providing a four year old with a proper chemistry set was “DANGEROUSLY IRRESPONSIBLE!”

_How should I know what children like? It’s taken me this long to figure out what pleases_ adults.

And it didn’t help that the boy didn’t like “normal playthings”. Sure, he would acknowledge and appreciate the mountain composed of action figures, water pistols, and video games his parents bought him for Christmas and birthdays, but ever since he learned to talk in coherent sentences it was always “Look at this cool thing, Uncle Shwock got me!”

Sherlock smiled, remembering the “So You Want to be Multilingual?” DVD he got the boy for his first Christmas. Mary thought it was brilliant, but John wanted the boy to learn how to speak in English first, to which Sherlock happily obliged. On his fourth birthday, John deemed Hamish’s speech “Good enough.” and almost immediately, Sherlock sat the boy down in front of the television and put on the “Spanish Made Easy” section of the DVD and practiced with him every day. Hamish finished it by Christmas and is now on French.

Sherlock mentally shook himself.  _This is no time to reminisce. The boy’s birthday is in two days!_

Slouching in his preferred chair, next to the fireplace, deep in thought is where Mrs. Hudson found him a few moments later.

“Oh, Sherlock! Still can’t think of a thing to get Hamish for his birthday?” she asked.

“It should not be this hard to come up with a so called ‘ _normal’_ present for a five year old child!” he grumped.

“Well, what did your parents get you for your fifth birthday? Surely they must’ve given you something normal,” Mrs. Hudson reasoned.

“Action figures, an encyclopedia of insects, clothes,” Sherlock said, dismissing the landlady’s words with a wave of his hand, “Everything he either doesn’t want or already has!”

“There must have been something you liked! A G.I Joe? A coat? Something must have caught your eye!”

Sherlock glanced over at her.

“Mrs. Hudson,” he started, annoyed he has to repeat himself, “I told you either he doesn’t want it or already has-wait!”

He sat up straight in his chair with a sudden epiphany, “Say that again, the part about the doll!”

“A G.I Joe? A coat?..”

“Ha! Brilliant, of course why didn’t it come to me sooner?!” he shouted, bolting for his coat and down the stairs. He would have to remember to thank her later.

“Sherlock? Sherlock where are you going!? It’s midnight!”

—————————————————————————————————————

“Really, Sherlock?” Mary laughed.

“Are you trying to turn the boy into you?” John scoffed.

Sherlock looked down at the small, blond boy tightly hugging his right leg.

“You said to buy him something normal, I bought him something normal. I don’t see the problem.”

“I know what we said, but getting him a coat  _exactly_  like yours?

“Well…” Sherlock started watching the boy let go of his leg and run over to a mirror to admire his coat more thoroughly, “it was the most ‘normal’ thing for a five year old I could think, with a little help,” he said with a nod towards Mrs. Hudson.

John and Mary laughed.

“Okay, sweetheart!” Mary shouted, “Time for games!”

Many hours, massive amounts of cake and ice cream, and a few tails accidently pinned to Sherlock’s butt (Sowy, Uncle Shwock!”) later, the party was over and it was time for the Watsons to leave.

“Bye, Mrs. Hudson, bye Sherlock!” Mary shouted as she went out the door; she was going to warm the car up for John and Hamish.

“So see you Monday, Sherlock?” John confirmed putting on his own jacket and grabbing Hamish’s hand.

“Of course, always up for looking after my favorite godson,” he smiled down at the boy and patted his head; he always seems to like that.

“I’m yo’  _only_ godson, Uncle Shwock!” Hamish laughed.

“Yes, well…” Sherlock said quietly. He frowned slightly at the boy’s coat; something was off, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

John started to the door with Hamish, telling the boy to be careful on the steps.

“Wait a moment, John.”

“What is it?”

Sherlock ignored the question and bent down to Hamish’s level.

“There,” he said, turning up the boy’s coat collar, “that makes you look…cool, as your father is so fond of saying.”

Hamish grinned and pulled Sherlock into a (awkward for Sherlock) hug.

“I love you, Uncle Shwock!”

Sherlock looked up at John for help, but as always John chuckled and let Hamish hug his godfather for a couple minutes before telling him it was time to leave.

“İAdios! Au revoir!  _Bye_!” Hamish said as the door closed behind him and his father. Sherlock stood up and turned to go back into his sitting room.

_Well, that wasn’t so bad._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at: steve-it-hurt-a-little-rogers.tumblr.com and tell me what you think!


End file.
